


Old Habits

by UniversalMasquerade



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Like I'm not good at writing romance so have mercy, M/M, Pure pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversalMasquerade/pseuds/UniversalMasquerade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey hadn't drawn in years, but one morning he woke up with the urge to draw - and right next to him? The perfect model. (Someone has already done this sort of fic before, I just decided to take a jab at it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits

Mickey didn't know what came over him, but one morning he found himself digging through drawers and under his and Ian's bed for his sketch book - which was actually rarely used, since he mainly just grabbed a random piece of paper when an idea came to him. The walls of his room were still bare from the content it once displayed, from obscene depictions of naked women back when he was in the deepest part of the closet, to a few illustrations that he was actually sort of proud of - like a picture of the El he drew when he was 13. 

He 'wrote' too, if you could call it that. Just scribbles of passing thoughts - one notable one stated "fuck love," which after Ian, he'd long since thrown away. 

After finding it under an old shoe box, he set himself at the edge of the bed and had the sketch book in his lap. Pencil in hand. 

_Now what?_

Ian was still sleeping behind him, breathing softly in a state of peace. Mickey hoped that he wouldn't wake up, because Ian would ask questions he didn't know the answer to. That, and it had been so long since he had drawn anything. Years. Usually when he did draw, way back then, it was due to feeling like absolute hell or having a sudden boost in self esteem - no in between. Neither were the case this time. 

Mickey remained there for a good 5 minutes, pondering on what to do next until he heard Ian moan in his sleep. 

An idea hit him. 

He crawled back to Ian's side and sat in a comfortable position. Ian was facing him, eyes closed and his hand clutching the pillow. His hair was a bit ruffled, some of it covered part of his face. Gently, Mickey moved away some of the strands so he could see Ian's features, his fingers lingering there for a moment longer before his hand retreated back to hold the pencil. Without thinking his way out of it, he began to draw. 

 _God,_ he thought as he started on Ian's jawline.  _This is straight up Titanic shit. What the fuck._

That didn't deter him, though. This was different, at least he felt like it was. Mickey finished the shape of Ian's head and proceeded to frame it with his hair. With Ian's vivid hair color, he had half a mind to color it in afterwards. Soon enough he was done with that, then went to his facial structure. Eyes, nose, mouth. While drawing his lips he, quite stupidly, had the urge to lean over and kiss him - but that would risk waking the fucker up.

He spent a long-ass time on Ian's face. Usually he would have rushed - as he did when he used to draw  _any_ guy's face. It made him panic before, like sketching another man would be considered gay and his dad would be majorly pissed. But, nobody was going to barge in and beat the ever loving shit out of him. He could take his time. 

Hands were never easy for Mickey to portray, often he found himself crumbling up the paper and tossing it across the room. Though he put a lot more effort and focus on Ian's hands. The night before, Ian had entangled their fingers together just because he could. Mickey didn't mind it much anymore, in fact, though he wouldn't admit it, he liked it. Sometimes he just stared at their held hands, feeling a sense of warmth and disbelief that he was able to do that without the overwhelming urge to run away. In result, he could probably draw detailed images of Ian's hands without having to look - but he wanted to get the angle right. 

Ian was covered from the waist down, so all he had left to do was his chest and the side of his torso. 

Unfortunately though, before he could finish, Ian moved to face the window unconsciously. Mickey reached out and grabbed him before he was completely turned around, pissed off because he wasn't fucking finished yet. That flat out shook the red head awake. His tired, curious eyes met Mickey's. 

"Whatareyoudoin'?" Ian slurred tiredly. "Something wrong?" 

The sketch book was quickly stashed under Mickey's pillow so his boyfriend couldn't see what he was up to. No fucking way was he going to have Ian see it, he'd never let him hear the end of it. Besides, it wasn't that great anyway. Despite his effort however, Ian saw Mickey shove something under the pillow - it just took a couple of moments to process it. 

"Nothin,' go back to sleep." Mickey said, too quickly. 

"What are ya hiding under there?" Now Ian was sitting up.  _Fuck._

"Nothing. Still dreamin' or somethin'?" 

"Mick, I saw you put something under the pillow. What is it?" Ian made a move to see, but Mickey's automatic response was to grab his hand. 

Ian motioned his fingers to clutch Mickey's in a gentle hold. It distracted Mickey just long enough for Ian's free hand could discover what his boyfriend had hidden. What he saw left him breathless. 

There, represented in precise execution, was without mistaking a sketch of Ian. It was clearly a drawing, but it had so much realness to it that at first glance he could have assumed it was a black and white photograph. The younger boy was completely, utterly, taken aback. 

"I was fuckin' bored, alrig - " 

"Jesus  _Christ,_ Mickey. This is amazing.." 

"Not really - " 

Suddenly, Ian pecked him on the lips and wrapped his arms around him. He kissed him again, this time deeper. Mickey didn't object to that, though was still embarrassed to have been caught red handed doing some of the gayest shit. 

"Seriously, Mick. It's just..  _Wow._ Do you realize how talented you are?" Ian turned to look at the picture again, still having one arm around Mickey, who was looking away, face slightly red. "I knew you could draw, but you took down all of your work before I could get a good look at them! You're just.. you're just great, you know?" 

"Great?" 

"Did I stutter? _Great._ " 

"..Uh, thanks, man. I mean, I haven't drawn in awhile or nothing so I guess for it being so long it's not so bad.. I guess.." 

"What are you guys blabberin' about?" Mandy was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Ian jumped to his feet and grabbed the drawing before Mickey could pry it out of his hands.

"Look at what Mickey drew!" 

Mandy examined it, then turned to her brother with a giant grin on her face.

"You're drawing again." 

"Shut up." 

"How long has it been now, Mick? A few years, hasn't it? You actually  _drew_ something this time, not just a pair of boobs or something." 

"I said shut up." His face was getting redder. Ian noticed and leaned back down to kiss him again. 

"I love it." He whispered against Mickey's mouth. "I love  _you._ " 

"Gay!" Mandy shouted, but a smile was still fixed on her face. She knew one thing, if Mickey was drawing again, it must mean something terrible or something great happened - she assumed that it was the latter. He was actually, finally, happy. 

"Fuck off!" Mickey said back, with no bite whatsoever. Ian was shoving him down onto the bed now, kissing his neck. 

"Okay, ew, bye." Mandy slammed the door, taking it as a sign that her best friend was about to fuck her brother senseless. Ian definitely intended on doing so, and Mickey was happy to comply. 

He guessed that he could make drawing into a habit again. 

 


End file.
